


Come away with me

by asherkoyal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Minor Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 12:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18941284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asherkoyal/pseuds/asherkoyal
Summary: When Jaime is captured by the Unsullied, it's not Tyrion who comes into the tent where he is held. It is Brienne, who follows him up to Kings Landing to get some answers.





	Come away with me

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: Jaime and Brienne may be a bit out of character, because I have a romantic heart.

“Come away with me,” She whispers softly, “just you and I. Together, we disappear into the night.” She can taste the bile in her mouth, cursing herself for sounding so weak.

He doesn’t reply. Only stares blankly into the distance, past Brienne and into nothingness. Jaime can’t bring himself to move, let alone speak. Here he sits, neck chained to a post in the middle of a tent. In his head, he curses himself for getting caught. Even more so with Brienne kneeling right in front of him.

With the harrowing silence between them, she continues. 

“We could sail to Essos. Make ourselves anew.” She can see him tense as she places her large hands on either side of his face, much like she had done when he was leaving Winterfell. But slowly she feels him relax under her touch, and watches as he rests his bearded face into her hands while closing his eyes, as if he was savouring every second.

Jaime carefully opens his heavy eyelids and looks straight at Brienne. He sees the effects of sleep deprivation across her entire face, he sees the redness of her eyes, and her tear stained cheeks; and instant guilt floods Jaime’s person, knowing that he has caused such sorrow. But as he stares a little longer and observes a little closer, he can see past all of that pain and anguish he has regretfully subjected her to, and what is left behind those eyes is desperation. Jaime moves his face away, so Brienne’s hands fall into her lap, and tears his eyes from her own, unable to look upon the woman any longer.

“I wasn’t supposed to get caught.” Jaime croaks.

“Well, you’re a fucking idiot.” Brienne replies in a stoic manner.

Jaime’s head snaps towards her, shock and amusement on his face.

“Brienne-“ He has no time to finish his sentence as he is cut off by her hand over his mouth.

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear your reasons. You are going to sit there, and listen to me. Do you understand?” Her hand still over his mouth, Jaime nods his head in agreement. Gliding her hand away from his lips, she begins her statement.

“If you planned to leave Winterfell to kill your sister, I would have understood, if only you had told me. But, if you left with the intention to-,” She pauses, swallowing the taste of bile once again, “to be with her. To die with her, then I would need to know. I would need to know if everything you said to me in that week before your leaving was a ruse. If I was just your…your-.”

Brienne stands abruptly and turns towards the exit of the tent, unable to finish her sentence, desperately trying to hide the tears that had started to roll down her cheeks. She curses herself, once again, for appearing so weak. She takes a deep breath in, attempting to calm her racing heart, and lets it out in a shuddering fashion. As she raises her hands up to her eyes, to wipe away the tears that have escaped her eyes, she hears a rustling of leather behind her. She assumes it’s Jaime, readjusting himself against the post; and then she hears him clear his throat.

“You once told me, you must have trust to have a truce. And I told you then that I did indeed trust you. And from then on I have done just that. You, more recently, declared that you trusted me with your life.” He says softly, talking to her back.

“I must say now, I was shocked,” Jaime continues, “I had gained the trust of one of, if not the most, honourable people in all of Westeros. I won’t deceive you, I was fucking proud of myself. I, the known oathbreaker, had obtained the trust of you, a walking and talking epitome of honour and oaths.” He finishes, almost out of breath.

Jaime observes Brienne, she is still facing away from him; looking out the gap of the tent, almost as if she is contemplating whether to run off into the night. Much like he did. Jaime can see her shoulders shuddering and moving as she silently sobs in the dimmed light; he hears her take another deep breath in, and he almost misses her reply.

“This does not answer my query, Ser Jaime.” Brienne whispers, the sobs deep in her throat.

“Ser Brienne, as much as I enjoy my conversations with your back, I’d appreciate it if I could see your face.” Avoiding answering her, he mockingly hits back, but she can hear the tinge of seriousness behind his annoying tone.

She stays with her back turned to him with no indication that she is going to turn around.

“Turn around. Please.” Jaime breaths out. She refuses to move, keeping her mouth shut and her feet planted.

“Brienne.” The strain in his voice makes her turn her head, not fully turning her body around, but just enough for her to see his face.  
Their eyes meet in the dimly lit tent. Both sets of eyes are gleaming with unshed tears, and darkened with compassion. Jaime, sitting there, looking up at Brienne; she looks even more beastly than ever, her towering over him like so. However, he knows she never was the beast in this companionship. Only ever the beauty.

Brienne snaps her head back, once again facing he entire body away from him. She wipes her hands over her wet cheeks, erasing the tear stains. Straightening her clothes, she slowly turns around and fully faces Jaime, still on the ground and chained to the post. She can see that the expression in his face has not changed, his eyes are still full of compassion and she thinks she can spot a small hint of hope.

Neither one of the two utter a single word, there is only silence; and neither can tell whether it is an uncomfortable silence or not. All that is heard are their breaths slowly becoming in sync with one another’s.

“I would not blame you if I have lost your trust, Brienne. I am a foolish man, a selfish man, a poor excuse for a man. But there is one thing that I am not, especially when it comes to you. I am no liar.” Jaime coos.

“No?” Brienne chokes out, after a few moments of shocked silence.

“No. Every word I have ever uttered to you, whether that be in the company of others, or in the privacy of your bed, has only ever been the truth. I swear it.” Jaime has tears in his eyes, silently pleading for Brienne to believe him.

“I shall say it again, my lady. If I have lost your trust, and you no longer believe my words-“

“You never lost my trust.” Brienne cuts in. And now it is Jaime’s turn to sit in a tranquil state of stupefaction.

“I had given my trust to you when you jumped in front of that gods awful bear at Harrenhal with one hand,” Brienne continues, “And since then, you have had my trust and it has never diminished.” She finishes, breathing more deeply than she had before.

Jaime sits there, tears no longer threatening to escape. He is too speechless to react in any form or matter. Never in his life had he thought that he would have gained her trust so quickly. Never had he assumed, on his travels to Kings Landing, that she would still trust him after he so coldly broke her heart by leaving her with a bad taste in her mouth.

With a clear conscience, he quips.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“You did not have reason to not hurt me, Ser.” Brienne replies, trying so hard not to put any of the emotions, she felt, in her tone of voice.

“I believe I did have reason to not hurt you.” Jaime whispers, Brienne not hearing what he said.

“Speak louder, Ser.” Brienne remarks, starting to get slightly annoyed.

“I love you.” Jaime races.

Brienne’s eyes instantly grow wide. She believes that she had simply heard him wrong, that he had not just said those three words that she had been so afraid to say during their time together.

“You mock me, Ser Jaime?” The words getting caught in her throat.

“No.” He says. No more. No less. Just the one simple word.


End file.
